Red Moon Rising
by RKInu241
Summary: The truth will always come back to haunt, sometimes at the most impromptu times. The disappearance and reappearance of a certain someone on an unexpected side is testimonial to that fact. The final battle is here, but it's not just without, but within.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of the characters in it._

* * *

**Red Moon Rising**

Chapter 1: Minutes to Midnight

* * *

_"You know what your problem is? You don't know how to have a bit of fun."_

_''Interesting. It seems that you've acquired it quite a long time ago, but have rejected it until now."_

_"Beautiful, isn't it? The way blood looks on snow. It makes my heart leap with joy!"_

_"What's yer name, little Shinigami?"_

_"...I don't know."_

xxxxxxxxxx

He sat, perched on top of the Tokyo Tower, overlooking the many buildings and skyscrapers. The lights from the windows and neon signs around him blinked in and out of focus, red and white and blue and green against the black night sky. The moon shone faintly in the background, framed by the many stars. He could hear the sound of the train rumbling on its underground tracks, feel the earth shake lightly as it past through underneath him. The cars on the highways going home after a long days work honked madly at each other as they were all caught in a massive traffic jam. They moved bumper to bumper, crawling slowly down the packed streets. The pedestrians below him were clustered into huge moving crowds, their black haired heads undistinguishable from one another as they too moved slowly, shoulder to shoulder, just like the cars. From time to time, there was an occasional strange hair color, like red, or blonde, or even an unusual dyed pink. They talked, mingled, ignored, hurried on- doing what they normally did.

The night air blew crisp and coolly, the scent of smoke and early autumn apparent in it. Being at the tip of the highest point of the tower was impossible for almost anyone, for there were no stairs or elevators leading to the place where he was sitting at. But for him that problem didn't apply; he could easily reach this spot. Even if they glanced up to look in his direction, they would see nothing unusual. Not many people could see him when he was in this form. He closed his eyes and stretched his senses again. He could sense a few light pulses of plus souls coming from different directions around Tokyo that would need tending to at a later time, and one or two familiar strong, concentrated spiritual energy waves at places he knew. But there was not yet a single spot of dark energy in the air. Overall, it seemed like an unfruitful night of hunting. He could call the quits for the night if there was nothing else in fifteen minutes, though it was tempting to quit now. There were better things he could do with the extra time.

He stayed at the spot for another five minutes.

He was about to leave when he felt it. It was hard to notice at first, but after a while the scent grew stronger, and the feeling of dark energy increased. His suspicions were confirmed when a loud howl broke through the noise of cars and people. Stretching his senses briefly, he pinpointed the dark energy. The pulse wasn't horribly strong, and didn't feel like something that could pose a threat -a middle-class Hollow at most. There was no red pulse anywhere near the area. Standing up quickly, he patted of any imaginary dust that could have accumulated on his pants and picked up the sword by his side, its hilt guard glinting faintly in the moonlight like a fallen star. He took a moment to gain his bearings before deciding which direction was south - the direction in which the Hollow was in. Then he leaped from his perch, sword in hand, into the night sky, plunging towards the ground below drastically before his feet caught air, and he propelled himself towards the nearest building in the direction he was heading in. He landed lightly without a sound, and broke into a quick shunpo. There was a pulse of a plus soul near the Hollow, most likely its target.

As he weaved his way through the buildings, towards the Hollow, a voice suddenly spoke in his head, light and playful yet strangely sarcastic. _"Let the games begin."_

He ignored it, and carried on running.

* * *

_"Hitsugaya Toushirou, do you have anything to say in your defense?" _

_"No." Was his stoic reply._

_"Do you accept the charges of high treason against you?"_

_"No." The reply was the same as before._

_Commander-general Yamamoto didn't even bat an eyelid. Ukitake could feel the cold perspiration slide down his back, not from the heat, but from the tension in the room. The session had been going on for more than five hours, and they had still gotten no closer to what they wanted. Or what the old general wanted. Hitsugaya Toushirou appeared to be equally unfazed, his aqua blue eyes steady with the same determination Ukitake had seen time and time again. Neither man nor boy stared away or let their eyes stray, even though this had been going on for so long._

_Ukitake looked out of the corner of his eye, looking straight at Unohana. Though her expression was as serene as ever, from the way she was wringing her hands tightly in front of her, he could tell that she was nervous as well. Then he looked across the room at Kyouraku. The man's eyes were shadowed by the ridiculous wide-brimmed straw hat that he was pulling over his face, making it hard to discern what he felt about this entire meeting. Ukitake knew what he felt - anger. _

_It coiled in his chest like a tight snake, ready to bite at its nearest prey. It felt strange to feel angry, but in his opinion Ukitake thought that it was rightly justified. There was no possible way that Hitsugaya had defected from Gotei 13 to join Aizen, not now not ever. But even though Ukitake wanted to protest against all of this, he couldn't let rational thought slip either. There was evidence given by two seated officers from unstated divisions, claiming that they had seen Hitsugaya corresponding with Ichimaru Gin late one night. There had also been traces of ice with his spiritual signature at the scene of a murder of a third seat in the fifth division. Discriminating evidence, yet Ukitake couldn't help but feel that something was horribly amiss._

_Yamamoto sighed, drawing Ukitake's attention back onto the trial. Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed as well. The boy was clad in a plain white robe, his sword no where in sight. His hands were bound behind his back with spiritual rope, and the red collar stood out starkly around his small pale neck. The sight wrenched at Ukitake's heart, but the man couldn't help but feel proud at the boy, misplaced as it was. Even though the circumstances seemed dire, he still hadn't lost his cool. "But was that a good thing?" Kyouraku had said to him the other night when they had been discussing this particular case over a cup of sake._

_Kyouraku had also pointed out that they may be ignoring the truth, relying solely on unprejudiced feelings and instinct to judge the proceedings._

_Ukitake knew there was some truth in what Shunsui had said, but even so he couldn't even imagine Hitsugaya betraying them, let alone actually doing so. But he hadn't thought that it was possible for Aizen to defect as well, and that had been a fact in itself. There may be a chance -no matter how slim- that what Hitsugaya was being accused for doing was true -yet Ukitake couldn't bring himself to accept that fact. The boy was as much as a son to him as he would be a comrade-in-arms. He may be getting all of this mixed up with his emotions, but he didn't care. Not yet at least._

_Yamamoto had continued speaking. "As much as this pains me," he said. "I will have to deliver judgment. This has been going on for far too long, and a verdict must be done." Yamamoto paused for effect before continuing. "The evidence is clear. Hitsugaya Toushirou, former captain of the tenth division, I hereby find you guilty of high treason towards Soul Society, and sentence you to execution by Sougyoku. Do you have anything to say in your defense, Hitsugaya Toushirou?"_

_"No," Hitsugaya's expression didn't seem to change at all. _

_"Guards," Yamamoto called to the men in white standing by the door. "Take the prisoner to the Tower of Repentance to await execution."_

_The guards moved to form a square around Hitsugaya. More spirit rope came out of the collar, and the guards took hold of it. As they led the boy out of the room, Yamamoto stood up and made his way back into the rooms behind the captain's meeting hall, followed swiftly by Vice Captain Sasakibe. Hitsugaya looked at no one as he was led out. As soon as he had left the room, the captains moved out of rank. Kyouraku made his way to stand beside Ukitake. "What do you think, Jyuu-chan?"_

_"I think this is all a well fabricated lie made up by some idiot that has no idea how to differentiate between his head and his feet," Ukitake didn't hold back the venom in his voice. He was always honest to Kyouraku, no matter what it was._

_"I agree with you on that fact," Unohana said as she came up to stand beside him. "It all seems horribly absurd."_

_Kyouraku nodded, but added gravely. "But are you sure that what you think is true?"_

_Neither Unohana nor Ukitake himself could answer that question._

_Suddenly a huge explosion shook the captains' meeting hall, making Unohana lose her usual balance and composure and Kyouraku's hat to fall off his head. It subsided soon after, leaving behind the dumbfounded captains. Soi Fong was the first to recover from the shock; whether she had actually been shaken was a doubtful matter. "It came from the direction of the Hall of Repentance!" she cried. The captains immediately dashed out of the room. Ukitake ran as fast as he could, all the while holding back the dread he was feeling; Something bad was going to happen, he could tell. When they had reached the scene, it was a horrid sight. The bodies of the guards they had seen just a few minutes ago were strewn on the floor, bleeding from heavy wounds. Unohana moved quickly to each of them, but shook her head at every one of them. They had passed on already; there was no way to save them now. But even though she had finished checking all the guards she still hadn't moved, looking left and right for that one tuft of white hair. _

_But it was not present amidst the blood and guts spilled across the floor. _

* * *

He ran.

Behind him the men screamed in a wild frenzy as an invisible force tore through their flesh and blood.

He crashed through the bushes and weaved his way through the trees.

The screaming stopped. The glade was still and silent, the scent of blood heavy in the air.

The figure in white standing amidst the blood-ridden glade watched the black butterflies leave the place one by one. Then, the figure vanished.

He carried on running. He had to tell the Commander-General what the monster- that man with the helmet of white bone, green eyes and tear -like markings had said.

_'When the next moon is full, it will run red with the blood of the Shinigami, as Aizen-sama holds the blossom of glory. Use these last few days to prepare for your funerals, Shinigami, for your death is certain as long as we Arrancar live to serve Aizen-sama.'_

* * *

Yamamoto Genryusai looked at the report placed in front of him. His sharp eyes scanned through the lines and lines of words again and again, looking for any trace of falsehood or hallucination. But no matter how many times his trained eyes looked through the parchment there was not a single thing that could say that the incident had been an illusion or a planned trick. All the bodies and the remaining man had been checked by Unohana and all the footages from the Hell Butterflies that had been sent out by the dying Shinigami examined and dissected at again and again by Kurotsuchi. There was no room for carelessness in this matter and every aspect had been inspected. The evidence was unanimous; this was real, and not a hoax created by rouge Rukongai bandits as was a few of the reports a couple of years ago. This was a real message from Aizen that the long-standing war between them was going to come to end, with the winner being the man himself. He rubbed his wrinkled temples with his gnarled old hands for a while, before turning to Sasakibe, speaking to him with such solemnity that the man didn't dare to even twitch.

"The results have been conclusive," he said in his old, cracked voice. "Aizen plans to attack on the day when the full moon will rise in the night, a week from now. It was no lie that Ulquiorra had killed off all but one of an entire squad of men on patrol and made the dying men depart this message to us using the Hell Butterflies, not to mention kill this squad within the very walls of Seireitei itself." The old man sighed. He had made his choice, and even though he didn't really like it much, he had to ask for their help. Their forces alone were not enough to overcome Aizen. With that in mind, he looked at Sasakibe again. "Send this message to the Vizard: Soul Society wishes to co-operate with them to defeat the treacherous Aizen that plans to destroy our worlds."

* * *

The buildings were all zooming and passing by him in a mad rush of blurred images as he moved using shunpo. He had been on a dingy old row of abandoned lots, where the smell of smoke and booze had been apparent, before the scene changed and he was on a line of newly built shop lots, with people that had just finished work milling out of them, laughing and talking. He had paid no heed to all of these little details, only the geography of where he was had been registered slightly, and had concentrated solely on the pulse of the spiritual energies that he sensed. The dark pulse -the Hollow- was closing in on the light blue pulse. Fast. He remembered the roads of this district well. There was a road up ahead that ran perpendicular to the line of buildings he was currently moving on. The hollow and plus soul were moving on that road, towards the direction of the buildings where he was.

Perfect.

He had reached the last building; an old shop house that had many rental notices plastered all over its front mirror and the paint was also chipping off the walls. He moved quickly on the roof -a flat plane of concrete that smelled faintly of rotten flesh- and as soon as he reached the edge of the building facing the road, he pushed off and jumped into the open air. He slowed down his descend by pushing out bits of his reiatsu in fine threads, but made sure that he did not leak out too much to alert the Hollow. He was right above the road now, and just by looking out of the corner of his eyes to the left he could see the hollow and plus soul, tiny specks in the distance, moving towards his position. Turning around to face them, he angled his sword downwards, pushing the sword out of the sheath slightly using his thumb and using in a battojutsu stance. He waited until the hollow and plus soul were no longer mere specks, when he could see the twisted, gnarled mask of the six-legged Hollow.

In one swift motion, he pulled the sword free from the scabbard and swung it downwards, aiming for the mask. It met its target without the slightest resistance. The mask cracked and shattered into a million pieces as the sword sliced through it cleanly. The Hollow howled as its body disintegrated, vanishing into the afterlife. He landed in a fetal crouch at the spot the Hollow had once stood, his feet touching the ground so lightly that no sound could be heard. He rose to full height, flicking the sword to clean it. He was about to sheath the sword when he saw the plus soul. The soul was a fat, pasty-looking man that seemed to be around his fifties. He wore a suit that was already tattered at its edges. His hair was only a tiny tuft at the front of his forehead; the rest of it had already fallen off in the man's balding process. The man had fallen down when he had just passed him and would have been eaten if he hadn't killed the Hollow. His eyes were staring at him with awe, and fear. Fear that now that the monster was gone the person standing before him, sword in hand, would slay him as well.

He checked the spiritual pressures around Tokyo. Still no red pulse. He couldn't help but find this odd. Every place had at least one stationed shinigami; for there to be none in the vicinity at all it would mean that something important was going to happen. There was only one thing that could have caused this: Either Aizen or the Commander-General had proclaimed all-out war. He pushed the old feelings back; he was no longer needed to worry over such things, it was not his part to meddle. Let them fight over it. This no longer had anything to do with him. He turned to look at the soul again. His soul chain was already up to his chest. A few more days and the man would become a full blown Hollow. He sighed. Looks like he would just have to do it. He walked towards the soul, angling to sword so that its pommel would hit the man's forehead. The man's eye's widened in fear as he moved closer, and the man scooted back.

He looked at the man with a neutral expression. "Don't worry. I'm sending you on," he said blandly. There wasn't much conviction or comfort in his voice; he wasn't used to doing this job. But the man did stop moving away from him.

A movement could be heard from behind him. "You know, you don't have to send them on. That's not our job, and it's no longer your job." A man with short, grey spiky hair appeared from the shadows. He wore basketball jersey and cargo pants; his earring glinted faintly in the moonlight.

He ignored the man, and instead stamped his pommel on the forehead of the plus soul. The plus soul was surrounded in a pool of blue light for a blinding few seconds, and then the soul was gone. He sheathed his sword in one swift movement. "It's not your issue what I do and don't do," he said, turning to look at the man. "Talk, Muguruma. You wouldn't be here unless it's something important."

Kensei looked offended. "I told you to call me by my first name. The family name makes me feel old."

"Just tell me what you need to tell me, Muguruma, and stop wasting my time." He stared at Kensei with a frown, not bothering to change how he was calling him.

Kensei sighed. "Cold as ever aren't ya, squirt." If glaring daggers could kill, Kensei would have been in his grave. "You're not going to like this one bit. You need to go back to Karakura. All of us -and I mean all of us- are to go to Soul Society to help in the upcoming battle against Hueco Mundo."

"What!" There was enough venom in his voice to make Kensei flinch. Shinji had been right; the squirt wouldn't take well to the news. Not surprising after what he had been through.

"Shinji received a message from Soul Society just yesterday," Kensei started, scratching the back of his neck. "Yamamoto had sent a request for co-operation between the Shinigami and Vizard to defeat Aizen in the upcoming battle. According to resources, the battle will take place during the full moon night in five days. Where is unspecified. The issuer of the battle was Aizen, through one of his Arrancar going by the name of Ulquiorra." He flinched slightly at that name, and it didn't go unnoticed by Kensei. But his facial expression was neutral, and it wouldn't be right for Kensei to prod too much; that was Lisa's or Love's job, not his.

"And Hirako actually accepted?" He quirked a brow skeptically. "I didn't take him as a man that would co-operate with anyone he didn't like."

"Yeah, well. It is to defeat a greater evil, and Shinji made it sound more like a chance to prove that Vizards are better than Shinigami," Kensei replied gruffly.

"That sounds more like something Sarugaki would say."

Kensei couldn't help but smile at that. "You're right on that part." Hiyori had thrown her slipper at Shinji's face for suggesting that they go there on their good will, and insisted that they were only going to show who is boss amongst the two, in her words. "So, shouldn't we get going?"

He sighed. "Is this necessary?"

"Shinji did say all of us," Kensei shrugged. "And anyway, isn't it about time you faced them? It's been what? Two, three years since you last saw them? Some of them do miss you after all."

"As if I'd know," He snorted. Kensei bristled at that, wanting to retort badly. Then he remembered. _Tch, messed up there._ Kensei was about to apologize when the squirt spoke again. "By 'all of us', did you manage to convince _her_ into coming along with you? Amongst us all she has the most hatred towards Shinigami."

Kensei winced at that. "Now _that _was quite the task."

* * *

Matsumoto sighed, and adjusted her shihakusho. Her captain's robe had slipped a bit during her nap. The kanji ten was quite stark against the white cloth as she cleaned her hakama of grass stains. The sun shone brightly in the tenth division garden Matsumoto was in. The branches of the sakura trees in the background rustled slightly in the breeze. The chrysanthemums were blooming, and the narcissi by the small stream that past through the garden seemed to glow a bit more than usual. When her eyes set on the watermelon patch, she felt a pang of grief. The watermelons had been left untended for two years, its tendrils crawling along the ground wildly.

Hitsugaya had been the one who took care of them.

_"Taichou, what are you doing?"_

_"What does it look like, idiot?" Hitsugaya frowned at her, a big watermelon in his hands. His white haori was folded neatly under the sakura tree by the watermelon patch, his hands and hakama ends already soiled with dirt as he tended to his beloved patch. He tapped the watermelon he was holding lightly, listening for the sound it made. He nodded his head lightly. "It's ready."_

_"What's ready, Taichou?" Matsumoto asked playfully. She had woken up from her nap a few minutes earlier and had been surprised to find that her captain wasn't in his office. She had been wandering around looking for him when she spotted him at the patch, and had come over to see what he was doing. She remembered vaguely now that Hitsugaya had actually planned to have a watermelon patch during his tenth year as captain of the tenth division. She hadn't known that he had actually carried out that plan until today. _

_"Ready for picking," he replied gruffly, standing up with the melon in his hand. "Oh yes, Matsumoto. Have you finished the reports I asked you to do?"_

_"Um...oh, look at the time," Matsumoto quickly said, backing away quickly. Hitsugaya was beginning to use the 'I'm-going-to-give-you-more-paperwork-if-you-haven't-finished' glare. "I got to go for my...err...facial! Yup, facial! See you later, Taichou! Have fun eating your watermelon. Save some for me!" _

_"MATSUMOTO! GET BACK HERE!"_

Matsumoto couldn't help but smile at that. It had been funny to see her captain try and get her to come back with a watermelon in his hands. She pushed the memory back; it was bringing tears to her eyes. Hitsugaya was gone now, and there was no way to bring him back. She believed him to be dead, unlike some heartless people that didn't know him who assumed that he had joined Aizen's ranks. An absurd notion. But he had been convicted for doing so before he had disappeared, that was what people said. She still didn't believe them, even when she had heard it from a captain's mouth. There was no way Hitsugaya had joined Aizen. He would never join that traitor.

Matsumoto moved away from the garden and headed in the direction of the captain's meeting room. She had gotten up from her lovely nap because a Hell Butterfly had informed her of a meeting for all captains, saying that it was urgent. She guessed that it had something to do with the upcoming war. There were four days left before they all clashed in the battlefield. She was going to lose some good men out there, she noted dully. She looked at the blue sky, watched as a cloud moved slowly, wishing that the peace would last for just a while longer. But lingering wouldn't do any good; what was important was to win the upcoming fight, and prove Aizen wrong once and for all.

She moved quickly, and soon she stood in front of the room's huge wooden doors. She entered swiftly, and took her place standing between Kyouraku and Kurotsuchi. Kyouraku gave her a cheery smile. "Yo, Ran-chan. How are you these days?" His eyes shone glinted slightly at that. She knew what, or who, he was referring to.

"I'm fine," she replied as politely as she could. "I've gotten over most of my problems."

Kyouraku smiled, pulling his hat down to cover his eyes. "Ah. You have indeed."

Matsumoto looked around the room. Ukitake was well enough to make an appearance today, and the man smiled at her as well. She returned it with a quick wave. Almost everyone except Ichigo had entered the room. At that moment Ichigo rushed in, and quickly took his place to stand beside Renji and Komamura. He exchanged a quick glare with Renji and mouthed out a 'hello' to her before Yamamoto entered the room.

"My fellow captains," Yamamoto's voice resonated throughout the room. "As you all know Aizen has proclaimed all-out war, and as the defenders of Soul Society we must, at all costs, defeat this traitor. And for that reason, I had sent a request appealing for the help of the people who call themselves Vizard. They have accepted humbly, and I will know introduce you to their leader, as well as their members. We will also discuss our strategies for the war and our arrangements and duties. But first, Vizard, you may enter."

The doors swung open to reveal a group of people, dressed in clothes from the human world. There was a man with cropped blonde hair, wearing a fur jacket and a shirt and tie. There was a short girl, wearing sweat pants; her sword was strapped to her back. There was another girl. This one wore glasses and a sailor-style school uniform, her sword was held in her hand like the blond-haired man. Then there was a rough looking man wearing basketball jersey and cargo pants with spiky grey hair. Then there was a man with long, wavy blonde hair and a man with hair jutting out to become shaped like a star. There was a middle-aged man, stout and big with short pink hair that had a cross pattern on it. But that wasn't what caught her eye.

_**In this farewell, there's no blood, there's no alibi.**_

Right behind that stout man, there was a smaller boy. He was too short to be a full-grown man. He looked ahead, making sure not to have any eye contact with any of them. Not looking around like his other comrades. Even from here she could see their color -aqua blue with green highlights. His hair was pure ebony black, and was messier than it was during his captaincy days, more similar to the style he had sported in the Academy. He wore a black, collared shirt and trousers, not standing out as his other comrades did. From beside her she could hear Kyouraku gasp. She could see Ukitake gaping at the boy as well. Unohana had a look of pure shock on her face. Ichigo looked horribly surprised to see that boy. His sword was covered with a cloth, preventing her from seeing the shape of his hilt guard, strapped to his back with a cord. But even so the resemblance was horribly striking.

_**So I've drawn regret from the truth of a thousand lies.**_

It couldn't be. He was supposed to be dead. That would only mean...

"Taichou!"

_**Well let mercy come, and wash away what I've done.**_

* * *

_**AN:**_

_Yes, I'm back. Reincarnation of Ice may still hold for a while, but if I find the inspiration I'll write it down and have it posted as fast as you can say upload. But anyway, this is a new project I've been planning on doing for some time. It's suppose to be better than my previous works, since I'm trying out some things for it, though I'm not sure whether there will be any notable changes in my writing style. I'm still not overly comfortable with the dialogues, and I'm counting it as my weakest point. I'm working on extending vocabulary and learning how to elaborate more on certain points; writing cutting-edge action scenes that will keep you holding your breath in suspense; and touching your hearts with nice heart-warming scenes. High expectations aren't they? Well anyway, back to the topic. _

_This story isn't planned to be horribly long. It's scripted to be around six chapters, maybe lesser or more depending on inspiration flares. I'm guessing you readers manage to figure who that 'he' is quite fast. I did drop a lot of hints. For this chapter a lot of editing and changing did take place. Some original scenes were cut to fit the mood a bit better. _

_If this story comes out well, then a continuation will be scripted for your viewing sooner or later. Its length will be the same with this one if the planning comes out as expected, and what will be in it, you just wait and see. I'm letting on too much information as it seems. Not that many people read my little scribbles anyway (ha ha). Exams have passed recently, and I hope to be able to write more now that most of what we have to study is done, now all that's left is some minor details here and there and I'll be officially duty-free until next year. It's currently Raya Holidays, so I may have time to come out with more of Chapter 2. The chapters are all going to be as super-long as I can get them, since it is only six chapters. And since they are super-long, it may also take some time for the next chapter to come out, but I'll be doing my best._

_Oh yes. Before I end this long AN, please review. It only takes a minute of your time. Just click that purple button on the bottom-left-hand corner of the screen that is right beside the selective scroll that says 'submit review'. Your critics are highly appreciated (this author wishes to improve and in time become an outstanding author, though this one will have to wait a while before this dreams come true, if ever). And now, I'm done. Until the next chapter, I bid you a happy...whatever holiday that you're about to have!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any of the characters in it._

* * *

**Red Moon Rising**

Chapter 2: No Illusion

* * *

_Black._

_The dark, inky black. It was everywhere. It was all around him. In front of him, at the back of him. Towards his left, towards his right. There was nothing. Not here, and certainly not there. _

_Except him._

_'__**Where am I?'**_

_It was the black. _

_That horrifying, terrifying black. It was beginning to surround him. Trying to envelop him. Trying to engulf him. It was starting to devour him, chiseling away at his consciousness, reaching for the recesses of his heart, eating away at his will, his mind. _

_It was turning him into a part of it._

_'__**Somebody! Anybody!'**_

_The black was crawling all over him, wrapping around him like a tight blanket. It was going to suffocate him. His vision was beginning to swim, causing the blackness to look like it was swirling into spirals, spacing in and out of his sight. He was sure he was screaming with all his might, but no sound seemed to reach his ears. _

_It was dulling his senses._

_**'Please! Help me!'**_

_It had already enveloped him completely. He could see nothing.Hear nothing. Feel nothing at all. All that was there was that horrible blackness. He couldn't fight back anymore. He didn't have enough strength left to do so. Slowly he could feel himself slipping away._

_**'I don't want to die!'**_

_Then all of a sudden, there was a rushing sense of clarity. He could feel it, the blackness cowering, ebbing away, slowly but reluctantly letting go of him. He could see it, the light that had shone upon it and chased it away. It looked faint, far off in the distance. Yet the blackness that was devouring him had felt its effects. He stood up shakily. At first he could only walk step by step, slowly, painstakingly. Then his strength returned, and he began running. Running towards that light._

_The blackness regained its senses soon enough. It was starting to crawl towards him now, slowly at first but beginning to pick up speed. He was half way there, the light looking bigger with each step he took. Fifty feet. The light was even bigger than he had imagined, a bright ball that seemed to cast light on every facet it could reach. The darkness was almost halfway, closing the distance between them. It was struggling, fighting the light's rays. Twenty-five feet he could almost reach the light. The blackness was reaching even closer. Five feet. He jumped, reaching for the light. The darkness stretched out, trying to grab onto his legs._

_His hands touched the light. _

_The darkness got hold of his feet. _

_The darkness screamed._

_He screamed. _

* * *

Ukitake felt like he was in a dream.

A very bad dream.

There was no possible way that this could be true. He had been sure, so sure after one year of searching that he had been dead. He couldn't bear the assumption of others that he had joined Aizen's forces for power; it was an alternative that was unimaginable for him. He couldn't think of the boy that was like a son to him as a traitor, not then, not even now. That was why he had thought of Hitsugaya more dead instead of defunct. There was no way Hitsugaya would have joined Aizen, not even if his life hanged in balance. That was Ukitake's view on the entire matter.

That was why he had been shocked when he saw this boy with aqua eyes that were the same as his -cool, calm and mature beyond someone his age. The hair color was deep ebony, not the snow white he knew. The hair was a lot messier, with more of his bangs fringing his forehead than before. His sword was kept in a sword-bag strapped to his back, so Ukitake couldn't tell what his sword looked like. But still, even though there were differences in the way they looked, the boy standing in front of him could be an exact replica of Hitsugaya Toushirou.

And then when Matsumoto had screamed, called him her captain, Ukitake felt even more stunned than when he had first set eyes on the boy.

The room had become unnervingly silent after Matsumoto had screamed; everyone was either too stunned or surprised to utter a single word. The only people that seemed at ease with this were the Vizard, whom the boy had come with. It was definitely Hitsugaya, even with the different hair color and style it was definitely Hitsugaya. There was no way there would be such a look-alike, not even in a million years would there be someone who would look that much alike. Ukitake was certain of it.

Commander-General Yamamoto was the first to react. "Capture the traitor Hitsugaya Toushirou!" The old man cried, banging his staff onto the floor with such force that its shudder could be felt throughout the entire room. Immediately Soi Fong, Komamura and Kurostuchi reached for their swords, pulling them out in a flash and charging towards the boy. Most of the Vizards took up their stances and reached for their swords. A girl with small stature and blonde pig-tailed hair, wearing a sweatshirt, pants and sandals bored her eyes, hate-filled at them. Her left hand rested on her sword, her right hovered above her forehead. _Hiyori_. A boy with cropped blonde hair, wide grin and long coat just continued grinning, not even bothering to draw his weapon. _Hirako._ Another girl with green hair and wearing a white jumpsuit and orange scarf just waved her finger at them, clucking her tongue away while her other hand also rested on her sword._ 'Ma-shiro.'_

Hitsugaya just looked straight ahead at the old man, making no move to draw his sword even as the three captains held their swords to his neck.

Ukitake wondered how Yamamoto felt as the boy looked at him straight in the eye.

Hirako spoke up in a bored drawl, his Kansai accent apparent in his tone. "Yare, yare, sou-taichou-san. This ain't part of the plan, ya know. We're suppose ta' come're and help out on the itsy bitsy condition that ya won't try cuttin' up our sorry asses. Don't go tellin' me now that was all a lie, 'cause if so I've got several irate Vizards yearnin' ta spill a bit o'blood."

Yamamoto answered evenly. "Hitsugaya Toushirou is a rouge Shinigami who was fallen of the line of duty and is currently under the assumption that he has joined forces with Aizen. Thus it is not against the terms agreed by the both of us."

"You're wrong there, Gramps-chan,"Mashiro piped in with a pout. "Snowy-chan is part of us, didn't you know?"

That caught the attention of everyone in the room well enough. Almost all the liuetenants gawked away, and the captains looked even more stunned than when the boy had first stepped into the room. The grip of Komamura, Soi Fon and Kurostuchi loosened enough for Hitsugaya to shunpo to the back of the group of Vizard. The three captains tried to charge again, but before they could Yamamoto's voice boomed through the room. "What exactly do you mean, Vizard? That boy is Hitsugaya Toushirou, former tenth division captain, is he not?"

"Wrong, gramps," said a man in his twenties with spiky silver hair, keeping his knuckle-duster like swords back in his pockets. _'Kensei'_. He reached out to pull the boy from the back of the group, earning himself a displeased glare. "This here," he pointed to the boy, "Is Kanagi Touryu, the kiddo we picked up just a year back. Good amount of reiatsu. Perfect recruit. And as far as we know, he's no Hitsugaya Toushirou."

* * *

Matsumoto could feel the anxiety build up in her chest. What were these people talking about? Clearly that was Hitsugaya Toushirou. Albeit the color of hair, he was an exact replica. The hairstyle he sported now was more reminiscent to when she had first met him and the one he had sported through out his academy year. The height was similar, and though the boy's sword was covered, she could bet her entire year's supply of sake that its hilt guard was shaped as a four pointed star - Hyourinmaru.

When Matsumoto Rangiku puts her sake out as a bet, it meant that she was dead serious.

Not to mention the way the boy had glared at the guy with spiky silver hair. It was just like how Hitsugaya had always glared at her. There was no mistake on that. So why? Why were these people saying he wasn't who he was? And why wasn't Hitsugaya saying anything to refute that claim? Even if he didn't, he could at least glance at her for a second.

Matsumoto looked at the people in the room. Ukitake and Unohana looked the most shocked of all. No surprise on that. From what she had heard the both of them had protested the most against Hitsugaya's sentencing and later on the assumption that he had joined Aizen. Again Kyouraku hid his expression under his wide-brim hat. Yamamoto's eyes had widened considerably; Koumamura, Soi Fon and Kurostuchi looked somewhat confused. Zaraki only scoffed, a disbelieving look etched across the man's face. Ichigo and Renji gawked.

If Matsumoto had been in a better mood, she would have joked around and tried measuring which one of the two let their jaws drop down the longest.

But Matsumoto was in no good mood.

Hell, she was confused.

Zaraki suddenly spoke. "Don't piss off with us here. The kid's got the height and eyes down. Hair's a bit different, but hair's always easy to change. Do you really think we're that dumb? That boy's no damn Kanagi Tou-whatever. It's too obvious that he's our Hitsugaya."

Matsumoto couldn't agree more.

"And we're telling you you've got the wrong guy," the girl in the red jumpsuit snapped. "If you want ask the guy himself."

"Why would we?" Kurostuchi said, clicking his nails and sneering vindictively. "He's bound to lie anyway. If he really is Hitsugaya we would be putting him into custody before he can even blink."

"Well then you have to depend on our word," A man with a funny hair shaped into a star retorted. He still kept his sword in ready stance. The girl in school uniform and glasses and the man with long gold hair nodded in agreement.

"And how do we know we you're not lying as well?" Soi Fon asked calmly, sheathing her sword.

The guy called Hirako looked at Soi Fon, his smile unfaltering. "You'll just have to believe us, that's all."

Yamamoto thought through all that was said, and finally spoke. His voice was conclusive. "Have the boy reveal to us his sword." The suggestion was met with agreement by the Shinigami in the room. If the sword was Hyourinmaru then it was certain that the boy was Hitsugaya. The Vizard looked a bit displeased, but Hirako looked unfazed still. "Go ahead," he said to 'Hitsugaya'. "Open it and show them."

Matsumoto felt the uneasiness form. If they had something to hide, then why ask Hitsugaya to show them the sword instead? There was no way they could trick everyone in this room. Could they?

Hitsugaya sighed. He took off the sword bag from his shoulder and untied the opening. As he reached in the bag the people in the room seemed to bend forward a little. Matsumoto could feel a bead of sweat trail down her face. The tension in the room was incredible. Everyone was nervous. The sword came out of the bag finally. The most of the room's occupants looked stunned as soon as they set their eyes on the sword. Even Kyouraku was stunned. The vizard remained impassive. Their leader grinned even more widely if he could.

The hilt guard of the sword was in the shape of a starburst. Not a four-pointed star. Small difference in shape, but it was a big difference to them. No matter how much someone tampered you could never change the shape of your own sword. The sword was an extension of your own soul. Trying to change the swords appearance would be like trying to change how you are.

Matsumoto could only look at the hilt guard dumbly_. Impossible. It's just … impossible._

Suddenly Zaraki charged, sword drawn, straight at Hitsugaya. There was a loud clanging sound as Hitsugaya immediately unsheathed the sword to parry. The two metals clashed together in a fury of sparks as Hitsugaya tried to stop the bigger man from sending him flying backwards. The tension in the room soared, and the spirit pressure rising to large proportions. The Vizards drew out their swords again, the Shinigami following suit this time. Hitsugaya skidded backwards from the force of Zaraki's blow, but maintained his stance. Zaraki stood fifteen feet away, his sword tapping his shoulder. The man was grinning madly. "Sorry 'bout that. Just making sure that sword of yours wasn't a fake."

Hitsugaya only glared at the man.

_No. This glare was different. _

In all of Matsumoto's time as her taicho's second, she had never seen him look at anyone –not even Aizen- with that much bloodlust.

* * *

Hirako sighed wearily.

The big oaf just had to go and do that. Now Tou-chan was as mad as hell. There was no stopping him now, even if Hirako tried to. In this stage the kiddo would more likely have their heads first before they could even say a word. No point in butting in if he was going to lose his life. He made a sideway glance at the strawberry blonde woman with the tenth division haori. Matsumoto Rangiku, if he remembered correctly. She looked positively shocked. Bewildered to her wits end nevertheless.

Why shouldn't she be? Tou-chan was a splitting image of the former tenth division chibi-captain. As his subordinate she would have the strongest connection to him.

The boy suddenly vanished. Zaraki barely managed to dodge the attack by Touryuu coming from his left. There was a lot of force behind the attack, Hirako mused. Not bad for the kiddo. He was getting much better. Quite different from when Hirako had first found him a year ago.

It was Zaraki this time that skidded backwards. The man was starting to look murderous.

Tou-chan calmly pointed the sword at the bigger man. He spoke for the first time since he had arrived. "Let's take this outside."

There was enough venom in that to make even the unmovable Hirako cringe. That was just chilling, the way Tou-chan had said it. Zaraki also looked a bit uncomfortable. Shocked maybe, that 'Hitsugaya' had sounded like an entirely different person. But only for a second. The expression on the man's face morphed into glee. "Bring it on, shrimp!"

Zaraki charged. Tou-chan fell back into stance. There was a huge explosion as their spiritual energies clashed. The people in the room had to maintain their balance and double their efforts to stand upright. The far wall broke as the two of them charged out of the building and into the huge courtyard beneath them. The occupants of the room soon followed suit. Hirako watched as the man charged again. Tou-chan was doing well at defense. There were no openings as far as Hirako could see. That meant that Tou-chan had at least been listening when they had been teaching him. But sooner or later Zaraki would more likely try to get a rise out of the boy. And when that happened Hirako wasn't going to be able to guarantee that the surrounding buildings would be able to get away unscathed.

"You look pretty grim Hirako," Hirako turned to look at Love. "I haven't seen you look like that since a century ago."

"Hey, hey, ain't that a bit insulting ta me?" The grin on Hirako's face made it evident that he was only playfully joking.

Hirako turned back to look at the battle above them. They were still in the air, using their spirit energies for uplift. _Tch. That stupid habit of his was starting up. _The kiddo was starting to become careless. He could see one or two tiny openings here and there. Nothing serious unless the person was someone smart enough to catch and take advantage of them, but a battle-savvy guy like Zaraki would start noticing very soon. Right on cue the man flash stepped behind the kid, aiming for his back. Right at one of the openings. _What did I tell you? _Luckily the kid managed to dodge. Though it was more of a surprise that Zaraki had used shunpo. If he remembered correctly when the guy had first started he couldn't even do simple things like that.

_Ara, what's this?_

Hirako squinted a bit. It looked like the oaf had managed to scratch the kid on the left cheek. Too small to be counted as a great hit, but it drew blood nevertheless.

_My, my,_ Hirako mused, pulling his hat down a little.

Things were about to get very bloody.

* * *

Zaraki smiled. Grinned like a mad man in fact.

For the first time he had managed to land a hit on the brat.

Throughout the beginning of the fight, no matter what Zaraki tried he couldn't seem to get past the brat's defense. But slowly, Zaraki had noticed openings starting to pop up here and there in the priss' guard. Tiny ones, but definitely letting his guard down. It was as if he was beginning to underestimate his opponent. The brat had been ass-wrong to do that.

Zaraki had managed to get behind the brat to strike at one of those points. Even though he had to use that blasted shunpo to get there, it was still an achievement. The hit wasn't something to really gloat over though. Just a god-forsaking-measly graze on the cheek. Just pathetic. Sure it drew blood, but it was plain little compared to other first hits he had scored. Most first hits had even been the last. The guys he fought on a daily basis were that weak. But still, first hit was first hit. He could draw out the real blood later. For now, he'd be a bit gleeful about it.

But as soon as he had turned to face the brat, he was gone.

Zaraki quickly looked around. Damn, the kid was fast. Much faster than he use to be. Back when he was still Hitsugaya-the-tenth-division-brat, Zaraki could spar with him without having to worry about sudden-death strikes. Then he felt it. He heard a sickening crack as the boy's foot connected with his back. White light exploded before his sight, and then the pain assaulted his senses. He could feel his body flying through the air, turning full circle to see the Hitsugaya-brat. Damn that son of a bitch. He had used the same tactic as he had did just know. But this time his attack actually gave him some serious pounding. Zaraki's eyes soon focused, and then they widened. In the brat's right hand, a red ball of energy was forming, it's light casting an eerie glow on the kid's face. The energy signature was distinct. It was a Hollow attack.

Zaraki remembered seeing that Nnoitora ass use it once. That cero-thing. It caused quite a lot of damage if he remembered correctly.

The motion of gravity was still against him.

_Oh, fuck._

Zaraki braced himself just as the attack left the brat and rammed into him full force. He could feel his body scream in agony as it flew through the air, down towards the ground. The pain increased ten-fold when he collided into the buildings opposite the meeting room. There were quite a few bone-wrenching cracks, and Zaraki could feel the air rush out of his lungs. The wall he banged into blew up into a million pieces, with him flying back even further. Five more walls later, he finally crumpled to the floor in the heaps of rubble. Zaraki coughed, the dust flying through the air was just beginning to settle. He could feel the coppery tang of blood invade his tastebuds as he started coughing up cupous amounts of blood. He tried lifting his sword. A jolt of pain coursed through his sword arm. Damn. From the sound of it his arm was broken. More likely in the same condition as half of his body. He couldn't even _feel_ his body anymore.

_Damn the brat. I'm going to kill him._

Suddenly he heard a light crunching sound. Someone was stepping over the debris caused by his horrid landing, the pieces turning into dust, unable to stand the force of the person stepping over them._ Like me_. A foot came into view. It was clad in a shoe, a plain sports one. Not the zori won by traditional shinigami. This was modern fanfare. _Oh, shit_. Zaraki looked up abruptly, coming face to face with the white haired brat. There was something in the kid's eye that didn't give the impression that he was just making sure Zaraki was dead. More like he was going to _be_ sure he had finished the job. Zaraki could feel his heart start racing.It felt like eternity as the boy lifted his sword, blade glinting from the rays of light that came through the gaping hole in the wall. Zaraki never felt like this before. When he had to attend to damn paperwork yes, but never in a battle. He had always wished that the people fighting him would last longer. For the fun to last longer.

What made this situation so much different? Was it because of the knowledge he was going to die a shit ass death?

Then something in the boy's eyes changed. He just sheathed his sword, turned around, back facing Zaraki, and began to walk away. No asking of last words. No final blow, no sword slicing through dying flesh. No nothing.

_He's just letting me go?_

Zaraki could feel himself grimace. The boy had pitied him, going as far as to spare his life even after all this. He had lost, and badly. Maybe even worse than the time he lost to Ichigo. At least then both of them had been badly cut up. But this time, his opponent didn't even have anything remotely life threatening. All he had was a measly scratch on the cheek. All Zaraki had done was hurt someone's pretty face. No way was he taking this kind of insult. He reached for his sword with his left hand and grabbed hold of its hilt. No way was he going to take this lying down. He dug the tip of the blade into the ground, using the sword to hoist himself upright. His body screamed in protest, the pain coursing through his veins. He could at least feel again, even if all he felt was pain. The pain meant he was still alive, not off somewhere in la-la land. He didn't take his eyes of the retreating figure.

"Don't mess with me, you fucking prick!" Zaraki charged with all his remaining strength, blade poised to slice through the brat's throat.

_I'm not going down without a fight dammit_!

The distance between them closed down. He could see the back of his opponent even more clearly. He could feel his muscles creaking, his joints aching. The blood from the numerous wounds on his body gushed out like rivers. He could let his body failing him, his next step even harder than the last. Hold up damn it. He was so close to slicing the bastard up. There was a sudden blow coming from below his jaw. Zaraki saw white. He could feel his body flying back from the force. He could feel himself start to lose consciousness, his vision blurring in and out of focus. He could feel someone grab hold of his shihakusho's collar. He barely made out the shape of the brat.

Even the brat's voice sounded vague and hazey. And he was right in front him.

"What a waste of time."

_Shit._

The last thought that course through his mind as the kiddo blasted into his battered body, was that the boy's eyes at that moment looked like the devil's.

* * *

Unohana was a calm person by nature and by training. It was needed for her to keep her calm at all times, so that her judgement would never be clouded when she was in need to tend to severely injured patients. Their lives held in the balance, there was no time to be panicking over things that would seem too little, too small, compared to what would be happening then. It was never a trouble to act calm in front of others, because it was something she was good at doing even in the most hardest of times.

But now, Unohana knew her distress was clearly etched on her face.

The boy was a perfect replica of Hitsugaya-taicho. There was no other explanation as to why unless the the boy was Hitsugaya Toushirou. But the sword. The hilt guard was a starburst, not the four point star that would make it Hyourinmaru. Even if Urahara Kisuke himself tampered with the sword there was no way to make the shape change without the person changing from the very core of his soul. There was simply no way for anyone to do that. So if the boy wasn't Hitsugaya, then what other explanation was there to the fact that he was a splitting image? There was no way he was a reincarnation. Incarnations took more than just two years to pop up.

She was watching the battle between the boy and Zaraki with the other captains below. There were notable differences in his battle style compared to the Hitsugaya they knew. Better defense, though Zaraki had managed to break through somehow. Then the attack that the boy had used right after the kick. She had seen it many times before. The cero that were use by the Menos Grandes. The boy could have only been able to use it if he was a Vizard. Had Aizen did something to him to make him like this? Is that why the hilt guard was different? No. That reason wouldn't suffice.

No matter what, if the core of the soul was the same the sword could never change shape.

"He'd improved quite a bit, hasn't he Hiyori?" Unohana turned to look at Hirako. She hadn't seen him for over a century. Not since then. There were many differences in him then, and him now. _He's cut his hair short_. Unohana was standing close enough to the Vizard to be able to hear what they were saying amongst themselves. Everyone seemed more engrossed with the fight that had now moved to the other side of the courtyard. Hiyori hadn't changed in appearance at all. She still looked the same as she did a century ago. Love, Lisa, Rose, Hachi as well. Feelings wise, Unohana didn't know.

And Mashiro... She wasn't so sure about the green haired girl. It had been so long.

"He's a genius, 'aint he?" Hiyori retorted, arms folded in front of her. "And he had our help too."

"He still has it you dolt." That earned Hirako a slipper in the face. Unohana sighed. _Those two didn't change at all._

Kensei spoke. His worry could be heard in his voice. "Don't you think that cero just now was a bit overboard?"

"It's his ingrained habit, isn't it? He does it even if its unintentional - striking at the enemy ten times harder than the initial attack that could possibly hurt him," Hiyori stated as matter-of-factly as she could whilst still slapping away at Hirako's face with her sandal. Now that was something Hitsugaya never did, Unohana mused. Did that serve as evidence that the boy wasn't Hitsugaya Toushirou? No, it still wasn't enough for her to determine that that wasn't Hitsugaya. There were still too many similarities.

What she heard next made the anxiety in her heart increase. This time it was Lisa. "You mean the big idiot managed to get a hit on him? That must have been quite a miracle."

"I wouldn't call it a hit. More like a graze, on his left cheek. Barely bleeding, and more likely won't scar. So it can't be counted as one." Hirako managed to say after he recovered from Hiyori's slap attack.

"Then the big guy doesn't stand a chance does he?" Love said, the bored tone in his voice evident.

"Not wi' that hit just now. That more likely broke about almost every bone in tha' guy's body." Shinji wasn't lying. Unohana knew how powerful a Cero could be. The panic was starting to well up. She crushed the feeling immediately; there was no time to be like this. If Zaraki had taken a head-on hit he would be badly injured. Unohana would have to be as calm as she could be able to handle with the treatment. She tried thinking peaceful thoughts; the moon reflecting on the pond in the fourth division's main garden; the sound of the bamboo hitting against the rock, the water it held pouring down into the pool. Anything and everything relaxing went through her mind.

Then Hitsugaya appeared.

All calming thoughts immediately flew out of her mind.

Hitsugaya held Zaraki by his collar. Dragging him like a deadweight. The eleventh division captain was bleeding all over from multiple wounds all over his body. The worse was the horrid, large patch on his chest. The wound looked as if it had been seared onto the man's body, the dead skin peeling away in a disgusting manner. The wound itself was raw and huge amounts of blood came from that wound itself. Another gash on his shoulder was bleeding badly. The sword wound was clean, slicing through both the skin and bone. It was a wound that could have been meant to kill.

It wasn't these details that made Unohana cringe.

It was the boy.

His eyes were cold and emotionless.

Like ice.

* * *

**_AN:_**

_Hi, hi. Looong time no see. I haven't update in quite a while. And before you start throwing weapons or anything within your reach at me, let me explain. I have been pretty busy this year with school. I have important exams this year too, so the teacher's are really pushing. There's a ton load of projects to be done, both academically and non-academically. Not to mention the lengths of the chapters. I'm want to be satisfied with the chapter before posting, so it may take a while. But I hope you readers will bear with me. This chapter is actually only half the length I was planning. It looks as if this is going to be longer than I originally anticipated... Oh well. The are some changes for the first chapter, so remember to go and check. Please review. It will help this writer to carry on writing. Till the next chapter!_


End file.
